Dashing Through the Snow
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: It would take a miracle to find Napoleon in a raging snow storm. Thankfully, there's someone we can always count on for one. Writing for Lgvu for the 12 Fics of Christmas


**lgvu** Oooh, could I have a DW/Napoleon crossover? Please? I've been good this year - relatively good. Prompts - winter night, snow and memories

There had once been a time in his life that Napoleon liked the snow. As a kid, he couldn't get enough of it. Sledding, snowballs, snowmen and snow forts, what wasn't to love? Then as he aged, he started to see the ugly side to snow – the shoveling, the driving, and just the cold. He'd learn to, well, possibly not hate it, but he sure didn't celebrate it the way he used to.

Now, he'd learned to hate it. He waded through the snow drifts, feeling his energy wane with each step. It felt as if concrete weights were lashed to his ankles. His chest ached with each breath and the cold air felt as if it was freezing him from inside out.

 _Keep moving!_ He heard Illya's voice in his head. He should have listened to Illya. When they separated at the THRUSH stronghold, Illya had told him to stick to the road. And Napoleon had until he saw lights in the distance. Worried about THRUSH, he'd headed off the road and into the woods.

His sense of direction was perfect… usually. Now it seemed to have taken a leave of absence and Napoleon had to admit he was very lost and very much in trouble.

The wind slammed into his body, shoving him first this way and that. His camo gear was great for hiding from the bad guys, but not as helpful when trying for a rescue.

He finally broke free of the trees and stood on the edge of a meadow. Not too far in the distance, he saw the glowing lights of a cottage, inviting and enticing.

He took a step towards it and the ground beneath his feet vanished. He toppled down the hill, grunting and moaning every time his body bounced.

He ended up at the bottom of the hill, too tired and too sore to even move.

 _Keep moving_ Illya ordered. He tried to force his body up, but nothing from the waist down seemed to be listening to him.

"I can't," he murmured, the wind snatching the words away from him. "Illya, I can't." His head dropped back and he stared up at the dark sky, snow falling from it. In an hour, he'd be invisible from view… not that it would matter. He could feel his life slowing ebbing. An hour would be too late. "I'm sorry."

He first became aware of being toasty warm and comfortable. It felt like he was cradled by the softest down. Napoleon sighed, then reluctantly opened his eyes.

The brightness made him wince, everything around him glowed. Suddenly a dark shade blotted them out.

"Hello, Napoleon!"

"Am I dead? Are you God?"

"Blimey, don't give him ideas." A woman's voice came from behind the shape.

"Oh, you tear me to the quick. No, I'm not God. You can call me the Doctor."

"A doctor?"

"No, The Doctor." The dark-haired man grinned. "We were very nearly too late." The woman appeared. She was carrying a tray with a bowl on it. "What's that?"

"Chicken soup. My mum's recipe. I'm Rose," she said to Napoleon.

"Jackie's?" The Doctor made an odd sound and leaned close to Napoleon. "I'd pass if I were you."

"I'm standin' right here." She set the tray down.

Napoleon propped himself up on his elbows. "Where am I? How did you find me?"

"Well, leave it to the TARDIS. She always seems to know when someone needs help."

"TARDIS?"

The Doctor helped him sit up. "Time and Relative Dimensions in Space." He stroked a wall fondly. "She found you."

"It's his girlfriend," Rose explained as she set the tray on Napoleon's lap. "Now be careful. It's still hot."

"I'm a little confused. "You're not his girlfriend?"

"No, I'm his companion. There's a world of difference," she said, then whispered more to herself than anyone else, "Apparently."

If The Doctor heard her, he didn't respond. "She took us to an open field. At first, I thought it was a Christmas treat, showing Rose snow and all. Then we saw you… barely. What were you doing?"

"Escaping." Napoleon sipped the soup carefully. It was hot, but rich and satisfying. "This is very good."

"Escaping from what exactly?"

"Very deadly birds."

"That would explain all the scars," The Doctor murmured. That's when Napoleon realized he was in a pair of striped pajamas.

"Is this another Earth, then?" Rose made it sound like it was Earf. "Killer birds."

"Naw, I think he's speaking figuratively." Then The Doctor snapped his fingers. "You're with UNCLE."

"You are God. How else would you know that?"

"He read your ID card that he found in your wallet," Rose murmured as she walked by and then smiled. "You old faker."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, there's that, too. That how I knew your name."

"Please, I need to get word to my partner. He'll be going crazy looking for me."

"Will do." The Doctor took the tray away and handed it back to Rose. "In the meantime, you get some rest."

Napoleon didn't want to, but his eyes were growing heavy. "You… you put something in the soup…" he protested. "I can't…"

"Rose?"

"Don't look at me. I just used what was in the kitchen."

"Not the Calasian carrots! You know they have a narcotic effect when cooked."

Napoleon heard nothing more after that.

Illya Kuryakin was not a happy man. He drummed his fingers and looked up at a man entered the conference room. He looked as if there were a dozen other places he'd prefer to be.

"Nothing, sir. The last rescue team just reported in. The storm has reached blizzard intensity and they've had to call everything off. "I'm… I'm sorry, Illya."

The words didn't quite get through to Illya. He knew Napoleon wasn't dead. He didn't know how, he just knew it. "Thanks, William. You did your best. Have the teams rest up and we'll head out at the first sign of daylight.

"What about you?"

"I need… Illya rubbed his forehead. What did he need? A partner, a glimmer of hope, anything… He was never going to be able to look at Christmas Eve the same. "I need to call Mr. Waverly and report it."

"I'll have them prep a room for you."

"Thanks." Illya watched the man leave. He was so tired, then a noise startled him, a noise half-forgotten and yet gut-wrenchingly familiar.

He stood and watched as a large blue police box appeared in the corner of the room. His breath wanted to run and hide. The door opened and a man was standing there, a dark suit with a tan overcoat.

"Illya!"

"Doctor?" Illya studied him up and down. "You've changed."

"You haven't. Well, I suppose you have, but well, you know time and all." He came forward to give Illya a rough hug. "How are things in UNCLE New York?"

They pulled apart. "Never changing, unfortunately."

"Well, sorry to barge in like this, but we have something for you. Think of it as your own personal Christmas miracle."

"Na- Napoleon?" His knees gave way and he backed down and into a chair. "You found Napoleon?"

"In the sleepy flesh. To avoid any odd questions, we checked him into the local hospital about thirty minutes ago." The Doctor checked a non-existent watch on his wrist. "He should be waking up any time now. He's going to have some questions."

"Is he… okay?"

"Yeah. He has a bit of frost bite, but we took care of the worst of it."

"We?"

"Rose and me."

Illya noticed the blonde for the first time. She waved happily to him and Illya weakly waved back, still stunned.

"You should tell Napoleon not to go wandering through snowy fields at night," she said.

"I… I will. How can I thank you?"

The Doctor laughed. "Not to worry. You just keep fighting the good fight and keep your head down." He slapped Illya on the shoulder. "C'mon, Rose, let's get you home for the Queen's speech."

They waved as the TARDIS faded from view.

Illya sat there, still unsure of what had just happened. Then the door to the conference room slid open and William ran in. "Illya, you aren't going to believe this. We just got a call from the local hospital. They have Napoleon. He's asking for you… and someone called The Doctor."


End file.
